


The Sins We Share

by melodycanta



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: AU, Cannibalism, Character Death, Gore, Lycoris no Mori, M/M, This is going to be really uncomfortable for some of you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 20:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19047772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: "Stretching his hand up to reach the stars, too often man forgets the flowers at his feet." -- Jeremy BenthamBlood gets to Randolph a little too late; someone else has already tried to kill him first.  Alternate universe of Lycoris no Mori where Blood arrives at the Lycoris field to find that Randolph is not alone.PLEASE read the tags before you read this piece, so that you know what you're getting into.





	The Sins We Share

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaanaai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaanaai/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Ana! To my partner in crime, who never somehow shies away from the more screwed up ideas I have and continues to encourage me to make new ones; I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I'm breaking my no-Lycoris rule just for this, mostly because there's no way I could fit this into the game. There are a lot of references to the audio drama that you may catch; those are completely intentional. This is kind of a weird voice for me to be in, but it's closer to what I wrote for short stories at university, so it's not completely unfamiliar, just a little rusty. 
> 
> This is the last chance to turn back; in case it's not obvious by the tags, there's going to be people eaten in this fic. If you're not onboard with that . . . this is not your kind of fic, and that's completely okay! I'll post the next chapter of HORIZON soon, so just hold on for that instead! For those of you who are curious enough to try it . . . enjoy. :)

If Blood had seen nothing more than his first glance, he would have assumed there had been a murder.  The lycoris were wet, red on red creating an eerie effect that made them look like they were weighed down.  In the center of them, Victor’s discarded body lay, and standing over him, Randolph, covered in the man’s blood.  He had an arm in his hands, which Blood only recognized because of the pinstriped sleeve.  Halfway down the forearm had been stained and that area was only growing, single drops leaving trails to where the shoulder should have been attached.

But it wasn’t.

Victor’s shoulder had been completely ripped out of its socket, the ragged edges hidden only by the seam allowance of the shirt.  It had torn mostly-neatly at the seam, only the underarm exposed and displaying the white bone underneath. 

Blood’s stomach churned at the grisly sight.  Obviously something had happened, he’d been a few minutes too late, but he could imagine the confrontation.  Victor declaring that Randolph was a threat to the village, trying to exterminate him, only for Randolph to overpower him and kill him in self-defense.  Maybe it made him an awful person, but relief bloomed in his chest, because Randolph was _safe_.  The rest of the villagers were no match for him—no match for them together—which would allow them to run.  They could escape to somewhere they could live happily for the rest of their lives. 

_(Blood thought briefly of his own crime against Alvin, but now that the only person who could really seek penance for the crime was dead in the flowers before him, all he had to face was his conscience, and that didn’t matter because Randolph had committed the same crime against humanity.  This would be their sin to face together, to dream fitfully about when they fell asleep after looking at the stars, and as long as Blood woke up in Randolph’s arms, he thought he might be able to live with that.)_

“Randolph!” he called out, not sure what of the blood staining his face and body was his and what was Victor’s.

Of the arm that Randolph held, Victor’s hand was turned almost ninety degrees, so that the back of his hand faced the ground.  His pinky and ring fingers were missing, as well as a chunk of his palm.  Blood dripped out of the wounds, running freely into the cuff of the shirt.  When Randolph took another ravenous bite, the middle finger dangled uselessly, still weighted by bone but severed from the connective cartilage.

Wolf ears twitched.  Yellow eyes looked up, the first glance predatory enough that Blood took a step back, a thrill running down his spine. 

_(‘Aren’t you afraid of me?’ Randolph had asked once, and at the time, Blood couldn’t imagine someone being afraid of the werewolf with the kindest eyes in existence.  Now he understood, because loving Randolph entailed loving two people: Orion, the lonely, cautious soul inside of him, and Randolph, the dangerous exterior that was currently devouring a human being in front of his eyes.)_

“Blood.”  His voice was low, but his eyes had lost some of that bloodlust so that when he looked at Blood, he looked more scared than anything. 

“Victor . . .”

“He’s dead.”  Randolph’s eyes lost the fear and instead, for the first time, Blood felt like a wall had come up between them.  The kind eyes hardened, refused to look away and instead stared into Blood’s soul like a petulant child, stripping him bare. 

“You . . .”

“I killed him.”

_(_ I know _, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out, stuck in his throat and suffocating him, just as Randolph’s gaze was suffocating him too because there was nowhere to breathe where Randolph wasn’t.)_

Randolph waited for a minute, and it felt like he was a million miles away.  “Are you afraid of me now?” he asked, but it wasn’t a real question and it was cruel, and Blood wanted to reach out to him because he was in pain even if he wasn’t admitting it. 

_(He wanted to answer no, even if he was afraid, because he wasn’t afraid of Randolph.  He was afraid of the slope he found himself on, because he wasn’t any different than Randolph after killing Alvin, and this was his future, the last shreds of his humanity that clung to the notion that eating humans was bad.  But he would give up humanity in a heartbeat if it meant staying by Randolph’s side.)_

“Randolph,” he said, and his voice came out in a croak.  His arm felt heavy as he lifted it to reach out because his legs weren’t working and he could feel his knees starting to shake.  With a soft flump, he knelt in the flowers.

_(‘There are things about ourselves that we want other people to know,’ he’d told Randolph while they had sat in the cave, but never in his wildest dreams had Blood imagined this would be something he would find out.  The smears of crimson on Randolph’s mouth were striking on his porcelain face, but no more striking than had Blood found him collapsed among the lycoris, the blooms hiding him, sheltering him from the cruel world outside.  He wanted to run his thumb along the edge of Randolph’s full bottom lip and make Randolph realize that he was there, in his namesake, that they were one and the same, because blood and Blood would be constants for Randolph for the rest of their lives.  I am here, he wanted to say because there were things about himself that he wanted Randolph to know.)_

“Why are your eyes so kind?” Randolph asked.  He had not approached.

“Because it’s you that I’m looking at,” Blood said honestly.

“But then why are your smiles so sad?”

_(Victor had told him that Randolph must have some sort of bad intentions towards him simply because he was a werewolf, and Blood was glad now, more than ever, that he had stood up for Randolph, particularly because it had led directly to this moment where Randolph was laid out bare before him.)_

“Because my heart hurts when I’m with you.”

_(And it did, because Randolph’s pain was Blood’s pain, and even as he began to soften and the walls came down, he could still feel the fear of rejection acutely in his chest.  If Randolph rejected him, it would be because he believed Blood was rejecting him, and Blood would rather rip out his own heart as proof that he wasn’t.)_

Randolph approached slowly, one hand still holding the dismembered arm.  He dropped to his knees before Blood and cradled his face with his free hand.  Blood could feel how sticky it was when the blood began to dry, but it kept them together.

“Where does your heart belong?”

_(‘It beats for you!’ he wanted to scream.  If only Randolph could feel how it pulsed under his skin, needing to be closer to the point that it felt like it might tear itself free.  If only he could feel how certain Blood was that if Randolph walked away now, he would drop dead on the spot because his heart didn’t belong to him any longer.)_

“It belongs with you,” he pleads.

“You should go see the world in my place.  Forget about me.”  Randolph’s eyes are kind again and filling up with tears.

"Never."

"I want you to be happy."

"Right now is the happiest I’ll ever be.”

_(‘I want to see the world with you,’ he had told Randolph, and he meant it.  But the world had changed to different levels of deception and lies and finding places they’ll be safe together, and that world was just as exciting to him as when he had made that promise.)_

“If doing this will make me have the same sins as you do,” he continued, and his hands shook as he took the arm, “let me understand your feelings more.”

“Blood—” Randolph protested.

Although he didn’t have the sharp teeth Randolph possessed to rip off a chunk, just biting down gave him most of the experience.  The meat was gamy and juicy, running down his face and onto his cloak before he could stop it.  It was unbearably chewy, and the little bit he did manage to remove rolled around his teeth as his molars gnashed it uselessly until it resembled the wad of paper he’d stuck in his mouth when he was twelve to avoid showing Graham a very unflattering portrait of their father.  And yet, under Randolph’s stunned watch, he would have bit into Victor’s hand a million times. 

_(He could still remember one of the villagers saying that Randolph held banquets to eat the people he caught, and at the time, he had thought about long, polished tables and pretty china dishes.  Now he thought of them alone together, taking bites one after the other because that way his lips could be where Randolph’s were, and his stomach felt like it was in his throat as he realized that Randolph’s mouth had been there, right where his was, and that made the morsel in his mouth taste that much sweeter.)_

“You really are a kind person,” Randolph said.  His thumb skittered down across Blood’s cheek, firm against his skin even as his jaw continued to move through the chewing motions.

Blood swallowed and obediently opened his mouth to show that it was empty when Randolph’s hand tipped it open.  He felt proud despite the meat sliding down his esophagus, heavy the entire way until it passed his heart and disappeared.

Randolph took another bite, chewing for long enough that Blood figured he’d swallow it, but instead he placed his open mouth over Blood’s and pushed the ground flesh inside with his tongue.  This one went down easier, partially because it didn’t have to be chewed, but also because Randolph’s lips were soft on his and his tongue lingered to trace the line of Blood’s hard palate. 

_(Randolph feeding him like this felt natural, like this was how it was supposed to be, and Blood didn’t question it because it might as well have been.  There was nothing natural about a human falling in love with a werewolf, because for all intents and purposes he could have been lying where Victor was, with Randolph feasting on him, and the idea gave him a thrill in places it shouldn’t.)_

“I love you,” Randolph said when they parted.

Blood felt the blood inside of his body singing and thrumming through his veins.  “I love you, Randolph,” he said in return, because he did, enough to break morality for no reason other than to be with the one he loved.  He had eaten parts of Victor, acknowledged his humanity and cast it aside because the werewolf in front of him was more precious than air.  What was a human who had been deceived by fellow humans and fallen for a monster? 

_(Victor had said the only one Blood could trust was him, but he’d never asked if he could trust Blood in return, and this was such delicious karma, for Victor to be the only one dead at the end while he and Randolph exchanged words of love over his corpse and dined on his body.  And indeed, as Randolph kissed him again, Blood realized he had no regrets whatsoever about how the entire thing had come around.)_

Randolph smiled again, and Blood wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked when he did that, but before he could, Randolph merely shook his head.  “Let’s start a new life together,” he said.

And so they did.


End file.
